


The Naked Battle Bear

by Kuma Chameleon (kevindrakewriter)



Category: StarCraft (Video Games)
Genre: Amputee, F/M, Gen, Nudity
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-27
Updated: 2020-09-27
Packaged: 2021-03-07 20:27:28
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,860
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26673640
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kevindrakewriter/pseuds/Kuma%20Chameleon
Summary: Rory Swann just blew his date with Alabama Kowalski. He was picked up from the Officer's Club floor by his XO, Matt Horner. But this wasn't a coincidence. Matt has a special mission for Rory.
Comments: 2
Kudos: 1





	The Naked Battle Bear

**Author's Note:**

> This is the first chapter of a story that will have sexual encounters between M/M(?). So The first chapter is explicit in descriptions but no relationship consummation takes place.

Beer was thrown into his face and he heard the high pitched southern draw of Kowalski’s voice cussing him out as she walked away. Another date blown out the hatch; he never did have luck with women. He though if he showed her the Xanthos he could impress her enough to lower her guard. She was impressed, but not so much that she’d be charmed by the likes of Rory Swann. After politely accepting his invitation for drinks at the Cerros Officer’s club she began to ask him many technical questions. Questions he couldn’t really answer. He had no idea how to get the Xanthos to run again because he had just arrived and knew Alabama Kowalski would want to see it. So instead of getting to the job of repairing the war mech, he called her up and asked her out. But drink after drink, Rory’s head focused less on being technical and more on being carnal. Kowalski wasn’t having any of it and eventually Rory slipped up and became the dog she suspected he was. A sloppy drunk and a bullshit excuse to touch her was all it took to convince Kowalski that Rory was just another man who thought they could take advantage of her with ease. So she ordered one last beer, took a swig and while Rory drunkenly leaned in to cop a feel, she tripped that stump of a man onto the floor, threw the rest of her beer into his face, and left him with the bill.

What happened next was just a guess, but Rory was certain he passed out on the floor of the officer’s club. This must be where Admiral Matt Horner picked him up and brought him back to Rory’s quarters. 

Rory woke up in bed with a hangover and his XO in his bedroom, asleep in a nearby chair, still in uniform. Rory was still dressed and smelled of stale beer. This was not a professional look for him to be in while in the presence of the Admiral and went to the bathroom to clean up.

When he closed the door, Horner woke up, looked at the bed, and then towards the shut door. He got out of the chair and straightened his uniform, checked his watch, and then walked over to the door. “Swann, we got a transport to catch in 40 minutes. Get ready; you’re going off world to Aiur.”

Splashing water on his face, Rory looked up without bothering to wipe his face. “Aiur?” Rory came out of the bathroom. The thought of Jim Raynor thundered across his mind. “Did they…?”

And like brothers Horner knew what Rory was going to say. He signed regretfully, “No, Rory, they said they don’t have Jim. He’s still missing.” Rory’s look of hope was dashed against the grimace of annoyance that pulled over his face. He went back into the bathroom. “Quick shower and some clean clothes, Tech Sergeant. I’ll be outside waiting.” Horner about-faced and headed outside.

Rory missed Jim. No one had seen him since he went back to Mar Sara. After that it was like he vanished. Who knows what happened? Rory had always held onto the crazy idea that he was involved in some protoss quest. But why Jim? Rory, of course, had no reason to suspect Jim was involved with the protoss, but the fact that he managed to disappear sounds like something the protoss could do. But the galaxy is a big place, easy to get lost in, and even harder to survive. Maybe this trip to Aiur would get him some answers. That motivated him to hurry up to catch the transport.

The bathrooms to his quarters were small, and he didn’t really have time to settle in. After removing his clothes, he held out his left arm. With his right hand he grabbed the left wrist and pushed his fingers into three specific points on the top, side and bottom; he heard a click and the hiss of hydraulics depressurizing, his left arm detached just above the elbow. He placed the faux-dermaplasx arm into the sink. Rory was ready for his shower.

Washing his horseshoe mustached face and crew cut hair was easy. His rather large, callous right hand covered most of his face and easily got around the rust colored hair, which of course he was seeing greys coming up around the temples, like they were keeping score of the hair he was losing around the crown of his head where a bald spot had begun the inevitable march toward conquering the rest of his head. His body having been forged in the mines of Meinhoff gave him a build that was powerful but small. Even among the rest of the Meinhoff people, Rory would be considered short, but he was wide and stocky. He wasn’t easy to topple and could hold up steel I-beams with one arm and operate a vibro-riveter with the other; that was before he lost his arm. 

Despite his short build, soaping the rest of his body could be trickier than washing his head. One hand had double the duty compared to the able-bodied. And reaching around his body required more stretching and balancing than he ever had to do when he had two fleshy hands. Washing the right hand was easy enough as it was doing all the work, constantly holding soap and lathering, he could give it a good scrub it when he dried off and attached his left arm later, but usually he didn’t bother. Since he hadn’t had a chance to set up the shower he had to manipulate the bottle of soap with his right, balancing the bottle upside down, and flicking his thick finger against the cap to open it, and letting it pour, pooling the liquid in the cup of his hand, and then flicking his fingers again to close the cap. After that he let the bottle fall to the floor, to pick it up again later.

Rubbing the soap across his upper left arm and up and around the shoulder, he took a moment to massage the muscles there. They were sore; missed the weight of his usual work arm, a giant clamp that came almost all the way down to his ankle when his arms were resting at his sides. His flesh, soft under the heat of the water cascading down on him, he let his body relax and it hurt, but in a good way. The dull pain of tension gathering in his shoulders would leave his body, conducted through his bulbous muscles in his arm out of his stump with the dripping water raining across his pale skin. His chest rested on top the bulge of his stomach and he let his core slacken and allowed a moment of slouching. He ran his soapy hand across his barrel chest, fingers combing through the thick red orange hair and then down across his abdomen. Round and soft, these moments allowed Rory to feel his vulnerability rather than merely contemplating it. Lifting his belly to clean underneath the fold over his waist, his hand brushed against his groin and on another pass with his hand he gripped the slight fat mound that was slowly building up between his waist and penis. He worked lather into his pubic hair and the fiery red hair disappeared in the frothy white loam of soap suds. Guiding his hand across the top of his shaft and gripping it over hand, he stroked himself a bit to clean it. But he had no time to linger here and quickly shook the desire to pleasure himself and continued to clean. The hand dug into the crotch between the legs and groin and then up and around the low hanging testicles, which he cupped and inspected. They were trying to keep themselves from over-heating in the steamy shower by lowering themselves as far as they could from his body: practically between his knees. He always paid extra time on his part of his body; it was the sweatiest part, a constant fight to keep clean, and always smelled. The legs were done the quickest. Hardly any fat collected on them and they were very muscular, defined, and not as hairy as his upper body, except for his toes which were thick tufts of red on the toe knuckles. His ass was the last part of his body where he cleaned, and he always loaded his hand with more soap. Bending over and widening his stance, he picked up the bottle of soap on the floor; remaining bent over, he managed to balance himself in one of the most stressful positions he knew, grabbed the bottle and again, single handed, flick the bottle cap open and squeezed more soap into his hand, then quickly set the bottle back down using the floor to shut the cap, before the soap spilled onto the floor. With his only hand, he reaching back into the crack of his ass, Rory stood back up and let his firm buttocks clamp down around his hand and he slid it between, cleaning the crack and sphincter. Once he felt the area was clean, he dared to stick and finger into his hole to give it a bit of an under carriage wash. At last, he gave his head and body one last rinse before shutting the shower off. Rory felt the stale beer and the humiliation of his drunken date with Alabama disappear. He was a new man today, or until his guilt came back to haunt him. 

The transport picked them up at a nearby residential landing pad and began to accent to orbit where Horner’s ship was. Sure enough it was the Hyperion. Horner must be planning on passing it down to his kids as an heirloom, Rory thought. He was never far from the Hyperion; even when it really was Jim’s ship, Junior, as Rory liked to call him, had taken to her like zerg to creep. Always looking through her systems, barking orders to get things fixed. He was a hard ass, but once you gave him what he wanted, he let you bend the rules in everything except when it came to the ship. Raynor choose good in making Horner ship’s commander. Jim always made the good calls.

Matt sat across Rory in the light military transport, waiting out the chop as they quickly rose through the artificial gravity and atmosphere of the shipyard platform. Rory had passed out, his head tilted against the safety frame, and mouth agape, sleeping like a baby. He was dressed in his Miner’s leathers and had his giant clamp arm with the graffiti words “Screw It” sprayed across it attached to him. Pretty much the same since Matt first met him on the Hyperion all those years ago. Rory was a constant during the war. In peace he wasn’t around as much. Valerian had most of the principles scattered about the sector putting out little fires. A zerg nest here and there, left over Defenders of Man cells taking hostages and pirating supplies, burning stations from a Tal’darim attack that needed rescue. Rory’s proficiency with machines landed him his own investigative engineering squad, he spent most of his time finding Moebius facilities and gathering information on weapons and equipment they found. Matt always respected Rory, but wasn’t sure it went both ways. He always kept the Hyperion running even when it was falling apart around their ears. This was enough to give Rory a wide berth in his conduct, but he wasn’t disciplined enough to really serve in the Navy. Valerian making him a special Tech Sergeant was a good move. At least he hoped.

The turbulence smoothed out and it was a quiet rise to the Hyperion. Matt lifted his safety frame out of lock and made his way to the cockpit to check on the accent. When he approached the door to the cockpit, Rory moaned. Matt looked over to make sure Rory was alright. He saw a man whose sleep was not peaceful. Rory’s face was twisted, crested in anger and then ebbed in sorrow. His shoulders rocked back and forth, his mech arm sprung up, impeded by the safety frame, and then relaxed. And then his body tensed again and the arm sprang to life ramming into the safety frame over and over. The clamp opening and closing like a wolf snatching at the air, attacking an invisible foe. 

Frighten that Rory could hurt himself, Matt went over to his side, calling his name. “Rory,” and when it didn’t rouse him from his nightmare, Matt called louder. “Rory! Wake up!” Matt reached out to shake him on the shoulder, and when his finger made contact, the robotic arm swung in and across the broad chest engineer, to slug Matt. Matt drew back, there was another lunge and this time the clamps were open seeking to grab his neck. Matt dropped to the floor and rolled away from the attack. “Rory!” Matt rose to his feet, “GET UP SERGENT!!!” And with one last snap of the clamps, Rory woke and his arm fell to his side.

“What! What is it!” Rory’s voice cracked as his head darted around. And then realizing he was dreaming he brought his voice to a whisper, “Gwain? Oh Gwain.”

“Rory.” Matt came closer to his friend, catching the gleam of tears welling up in his eyes. “Rory, you ok? What happened?”

Rory sniffled, choking his tears back. He wasn’t going to cry in front of nobody, let alone his XO. “Yeah, it was nuthin’. Just bad dreams. Bad memories.”

The silence was growing. Matt could drop it and act like nothing happened, they way military men have acted since the first club bashed the first brain pan in, or he could open the door a bit and let Rory come through if he wanted. “You said something, Gwain, I think.”

Rory wish he hadn’t said anything. He smirked a bit hearing her name coming from some else’s mouth. It was a bit of a jab, but Rory knew Junior met no harm. “I, uh, I don’t-” and Rory looked up; Matt’s eyes caught him off guard. It wasn’t the look of an XO, it wasn’t even the look of a confused friend; It was one of concern that only someone’s family could give you. It melted Rory’s defenses quick. “Gwain,” Rory let the word fly over his tongue and through his lips like steam from a boiling kettle, “Gwain was my first wife. She died in a mine on Meinhoff.”

Matt’s dumbfound look splashed across his face. He hadn’t expected Rory to be so open. He knew Rory had been married before, twice if he remembered correctly, but those relationships were mere facts and hadn’t had any emotional resonance until now. “Rory,” Matt said gently. 

Smiling Rory just let it go. His defenses fell and he allowed Matt to see his soft underbelly. “She was a hell of a woman. We were only married for a short while though before she was killed. And it was an arranged marriage. I never knew her until be the day before the wedding.”

“I had no idea Rory.”

“She loved the drilling mech. I never had seen a girl take to mining like she did. The deeper she drilled the happier she was. She said to me the breaking of rock was her favorite sound. No one could tell her she couldn’t drill. It was all she wanted to do. I led the shaft bracing team. We would be behind the drill bracing the walls with steel beams. We worked hard to keep up with Gwain. I don’t know what happened but one day, she was drilling and me and my crew were bracing, and she must have hit a pocket, and it just collapsed around her. Me and my crew got caught in the landslide. We wouldn’t be rescued for two days. I was out of it the entire time and woke up in a hospital. I was rescued, but my arm was smashed beyond healing.” Rory slammed his mechanical arm against the hull. “That’s worst part of it, Junior. I was there. I was there and I couldn’t save her.” Rory turned away from Matt. He needed a moment to hide his face to let one tear go. Hot against his cheek, he could feel it evaporating as it rolled down. “Her Dad; he died when he had heard about the accident. I didn’t even get a chance to tell him.” 

“I never knew,” was all Matt could summon to say.

“Yeah I don’t talk about those days. But since Gwain here,” Rory pointed to the mechanical arm, “tried to take a bite out of ya, I figured you should be introduced.”

“You named your mechanical arm after your first wife?”

“Oh you bet. It reminds me of her. Powerful, big, and sometime she don’t listen too good. But she’s special and she’s mine.”

Matt chuckled, “Well you keep her, Rory. You two seem to make a good team.”


End file.
